The Delicacy of Roses
by Princess-Warrior 17
Summary: Carly Shay has always been the beautiful, delicate girl. No one believes she has any venom or bite to her words. With her innocent, sweet smile, who could say no to her? But, what happens when she's captured by Nevel at her Halfoween party? Suddenly, Carly has a lot more to deal with than simple charm. AU, taking place during iHalfoween. Carly & Sam friendship fic. WARNING inside.


**A/N:**

_**Invader Johnny**__ requested a friendship story about Carly and Sam, and here it is. It's AU, taking place during iHalfoween. Hopefully characterization is all right—this is my first time writing something other than Seddie for the iCarly fandom. I apologize if it's not up to my usual standard of work; writing hasn't really been on my mind lately. I simply finished this to complete a request. _

**WARNING: **_Out-of-Character behavior. According to __**Invader Johnny**__'s request, both Sam and Carly deviate from how they normally act. Keep that in mind. Dark themes are present, too. If this causes any triggers for anyone, then STOP reading. Nothing incredibly graphic occurs, but I will warn you that there is heavy emotional content. Because this is an AU fic, some of the events did not happen. Freddie didn't discover Nevel in the iCarly studio. Nevel has a part here, but it's slightly different than the original episode. _

**Disclaimer:**

_Unfortunately, I am not the brilliant Dan Schneider. I'm just a misguided person who thinks they can rework his characters into a story. _

* * *

**The Delicacy of Roses**

* * *

As soon as Gibby exited Carly's bedroom, she anxiously paced around the spacious area. Muttering to herself, she wondered who on earth could have been in the purple robot costume. Whoever it was certainly wasn't invited to the party; no one she knew would have purposefully hurt Sam, Freddie, and herself.

Too preoccupied by the current situation, she didn't hear the door slowly creak open. She finally noticed the footsteps behind her, but didn't think anything of it.

Assuming it was just Gibby returning to grab the pillow with the wing sauce on it (she wouldn't have put it past him to simply lick it off of there), she said, "Pillow's on the bed, Gibby. Go ahead and take it." Her voice was strained, tired.

"Well, if it isn't Carly Shay herself. I must say, you look positively delicious as piece of sushi. Even more stunning than the first day I met you."

At the words, Carly's blood ran cold. She _knew_ that voice.

Whirling around, she came face-to-face with Nevel Papperman. He dangled the head of the purple robot in his hands, and his lips twisted into the most gruesome, awful smile known to man. He raised an eyebrow, as if challenging her to say something. When she didn't, he continued.

"What? No, greeting? How rude of you," he chuckled darkly, stepping closer.

"Get away from me!" she shrieked, her voice sounding croaky and masculine from the candy she had consumed.

"Carly, dear, you mustn't be rude to a guest. If I recall correctly, you were perfectly content a few moments ago. Oh, but wait. That was before you ate the candy, wasn't it?" He laughed delightfully.

"You are so dead, Nevel!" she growled, lunging for him.

Before her hands could grab a hold of him, he snapped his fingers. Two burly men appeared out of nowhere, flanking either side of him.

"Demetri, Evon, take Miss Shay out of her room and place her into the iCarly studio. I would like a word with her without fearing that she will rip me to shreds."

Identical grunts answered him as the two men latched onto Carly's arms. She tried to twist out, but it was no use. They had much more muscle than she could have ever hoped to obtain, and they wound her arms so tightly that if she flailed around, she would have dislocated her shoulders. She would have raised her leg to kick Nevel in his infuriating, wretched face, but she knew that if she did that, she was dead. Demetri and Evon would simply have to flick their wrists and she would have crumpled at their feet. Swallowing, Carly tried to eliminate the image from her mind. Instead, she blew an angry breath out.

"When Sam finds out what you've done with me, you're going to be sorry," Carly threatened through clenched teeth.

"_Please._ She'll never lay a finger on me. I'll make sure of it." A dangerous glimmer flickered in Nevel's eyes. "And if she does, let's just say she's going to have fun giving a speech at _your _funeral." Again, a dark and morbid chuckle escaped from his mouth.

"You are the_ vilest_ and most _insufferable_ person I've ever met," Carly spat.

"I take those as compliments, dear. I _revel _in it," he responded haughtily. He clapped his hands and ordered in a firm voice, "Demetri, Evon, get moving!"

The four of them moved towards the iCarly studio, and as soon as they were in the center of room, Nevel located a chair for Carly. Demetri and Evon made quick work of a piece of rope that Nevel happened to have with him. They secured the thick material around Carly's wrists and legs. When they finished, Nevel stepped right in front of her, examining his henchmen's handiwork. Approval sparkled in his eyes.

Breathing into her face, he said, "Let's face it, Carly. I _won. _You're smart enough to know this particular Latin phrase, so I'll just say it now: _Veni, vidi, vici_."

Carly had always hated Latin. Before attending public school and taking more modern day classes, Carly had been sent to a private school. While at _Brighampton_, she was forced against her will to enroll into _The History and Language of Latin_. To Carly's dismay, it was the only class she didn't excel at. The words, so clearly written on paper and spoken in soft tones around her, never made any sense. Every time she had to memorize a word, a definition, or a phrase, her head ached for hours and her eyes itched from staring at the text for far too long. No matter how much she studied, and how many tutoring sessions she received from her teacher, she never quite grasped the concept. And she never understood the appeal of such an ancient language. It bored her to death, to the point where she would have rather taken several physical education classes instead.

After nearly five years' worth of Latin lessons, Carly could only remember two phrases. The first was what Nevel had just said, and the second was, "_Cave quid dicis, quando, et cui." _Roughly translated, it meant, "Beware of what you say, when, and to whom." She found it interesting when she had learned it, and told herself to permanently store it into her memory. Now, she finally understood why she decided to keep those words locked away in her mind.

Her eyes glared daggers at Nevel: the bane of her existence. From the time he opened his mouth and his high-pitched, irritating voice rang in her ears, she wanted to strangle him. Carly had never been a violent person (hell, she was practically the poster child for happiness, sunshine, and sweet looking kittens), but something about Nevel truly made her insides boil with rage.

As a piece of cloth was tied firmly around her mouth to gag her, she felt that rage reach its height. She tried to move around, but she was restrained tightly to the chair. More than anything, she wished she had enough strength to break free and throttle Nevel.

"It seems you have the short end of the stick now," Nevel sneered at her, nodding at his two henchmen to back away.

If looks could have killed, Nevel would have been struck dead in his spot. The look that Carly was currently throwing his way was sharp enough to pierce through him. Nevertheless, Nevel continued to taunt her.

"I take back what I said. You really aren't that smart. Surely, you didn't think that I was done torturing you after the bread and butter pickle incident, did you?" He titled his head and smirked in the most arrogant, _evil_ way possible. Crossing his arms, he gazed at her with an expression that could have only been described as victorious, like he had conquered a battle.

Carly could only shout at the fabric, causing muffled noises to emanate from her. She thrashed around in her seat, desperately trying to find a way, _any way_, to get out.

"Oh, Carly. Don't strain yourself. You don't want to wreck your pretty little body, do you?" His tone dripped with faux sugar sweetness. "But, I will say this isn't as much fun if you're not talking. Evon, remove Carly's gag."

Grunting, the large, rotund man followed orders. He violently ripped the cloth away.

"_I will end you, Nevel Papperman,_" Carly hissed vehemently.

A loud, amused laugh burst from Nevel. He wiped the imaginary tears from his eyes, clearly entertained at the mere idea.

"You're such a funny girl, Carly. No wonder guys are always lining up at your door to ask you out." His eyes shined with humor, but his tone was laced with bitterness. "It's rather sad, though, that you never picked _me._ You wouldn't even be in this mess if you hadn't _rejected_ me the first time we met." His upper lip curled in disgust, and in that moment, Carly had never seen someone who was as _ugly_ and gut-wrenchingly horrible in all of her life.

The Latin phrase echoed in Carly's mind once again. Nevel was right—if she had watched what she had said to him, if she had just let him down gently, she wouldn't have been bound to a chair, struggling for her life. She was positive that Nevel wouldn't purposely kill her with his own hands (all of that blood would tamper with his germ phobia). But, she knew that he would not hesitate to snap his fingers and have his two goons take care of her. It took her a fraction of a second to realize that if she didn't play nice for the time being, dying a most painful death was a definite possibility.

"What do you want, Nevel? You wouldn't go through all of this trouble if you didn't want something." Her voice was fairly stable, but it was not without effort. She had to bite her tongue from harshly lashing out at him.

Nevel began to circle around his captive, like a starving shark feasting its eyes on a helpless victim. The smile he wore on his lips was more reminiscent of a shark than Carly cared to admit. Goose bumps peppered her skin, weaving a pattern around her neck and down her arms.

"This isn't about iCarly anymore," Nevel said casually, reaching out to touch Carly. He trailed his fingers through her hair, over her cheeks, and to her collar bone. He pulled away after a bit, smirking. "This is about _me_ hurting _you._"

Carly had to stamp down the pure _hate_ and _anger_ that had bubbled in her system. Instead, she feigned innocence. "What do you mean by that?"

"Silly, Carly," Nevel cooed in her ear, his breath scorching hot and causing shivers to run down her spine. "You know _exactly _what I mean. I'm not going to emotionally hurt you. No, that'd be too easy." He snickered lowly. "You're going to get physically hurt, so you'll know what it feels like to have a _broken heart._ You _broke_ my heart, and now's my chance to make you see how much it _hurts._ With the help of my henchmen, we are going to put you into this purple robot costume."

"W-w-what?" Carly stammered, clearly confused. "I don't understand."

With a twitch of his hand, Nevel grabbed a handful of Carly's hair and tugged violently, causing her to yelp in pain. "_Don't play dumb,"_ he demanded furiously.

"Please stop," Carly begged, whimpering. "It hurts."

"Good," he laughed menacingly. "Pain is good for you." He released her hair, only to cup her chin his hand. He looked at her for a moment, but there was no warmth in his eyes. His eyes bore a coldness so icy that it matched the climate in Antarctica.

"I'm not going to be the one inflicting the pain, though," he continued. "Sam will."

The fire was lit again in Carly. She shoved her damsel-in-distress feelings away. "Don't you _dare_ bring her into this," she shouted.

"Oh, but I will. Once she sees you in this purple robot costume, she's going to think the worst of you. What better way to _break_ Carly Shay than have her best friend hurt her? I am a _genius._" Nevel's echoing laugh was haunting; it was exactly like that of a serial killer right before he preyed on his victim.

"You are a sick bastard," Carly snarled, spitting into his face.

Taking a step back, he wiped at his face. In a detached voice, he said, "Demetri, Evon. Take care of Carly. And don't feel bad about leaving some bruises. It will be nothing compared to what Sam's going do to her." He shucked off the costume and dropped it onto the floor. Clad in a pair of khakis and a polo, he bent the collar of his polo upward. With a flourish, he turned on his heel and strode through the door of the iCarly studio.

Gulping, Carly's eyes widened in fear as the two men approached her. She managed to scream out, "_Help!" _before she felt a sharp, blunt object hit her head.

* * *

Sam frantically tore through the apartment, looking under, over, and around every square inch to find the person in the purple robot costume. She was physically tired of searching, but she would not rest until she got a hold of that particularly annoying individual. As soon as she could wrap her hands around their throat and squeeze ever so gently…

_No, _she thought to herself. _I'm not going to have these violent thoughts. Carly said it wasn't right. And I promised her that I'd work on managing my anger. _

She was about to race into another room to check for the culprit, but a voice interrupted her movements.

"I see you haven't had any more luck than me."

Recognizing the voice as Freddie's, her shoulders relaxed. She was thankful that her voice and his had returned to normal.

She turned to face Freddie, scowling. "No. I can't stand this! Where the hell is that person?"

Blowing an impatient breath out of his nose, Freddie answered, "I don't know. Maybe they already left."

"We _have _to keep looking! Wait," Sam paused, eyes shifting around the room. "Where's Carly?"

"I—I don't know. I haven't heard anything from her in the last half an hour. Do you think the purple robot took her?" His breath hitched.

Before she could stop herself, Sam had socked him in the shoulder. "Don't say that," she gritted between her teeth. "Don't make me think that they have her captive."

Freddie noticed that he had hit a touchy spot. Rubbing his sore shoulder, he muttered, "Sorry. I didn't mean to."

She ignored his apology. "Come on, help me search the next room," Sam ordered briskly.

The pair didn't get too far before they heard a crash. They raced out of the room they currently occupied and found the purple robot tumbling down the stairs. The robot finally landed at the bottom of the staircase, its legs and arms sprawled in a twisted mess. Gasps and screams sounded from the other partiers as they scrambled away.

Freddie and Sam exchanged a look before they moved in the direction of the purple robot. Once they were close enough, Sam reached out and pulled the robot up to eye level.

"There you are, you _menace_," she growled, shaking the person. "You're going to tell me why you did what you did, and you're going to tell me what you did with Carly. _Right now._"

Freddie edged his way closer, hovering near Sam. He would have echoed her words, but he knew how powerful she already was without his help. Normally, he was on the side of rationality, but today he had to make an exception. He certainly didn't want the purple robot to get off easy—he wished to see some sort of punishment.

The purple robot simply gurgled at Sam, its voice box clearly malfunctioning. Sam didn't care, though. She was out for _blood. _Her anger rose and settled in the pit of her stomach. Releasing an agitated breath, she gripped tighter onto the robot.

"Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way." Her voice was harsh, as she grappled with the robot. "Spencer!" she called out.

Suddenly, a costume-clad Spencer appeared, holding half of a sandwich in his hand. His eyes lit up when saw the culprit in Sam's arms.

"You found the purple robot!" he beamed around a mouth full of sandwich.

Nodding, Sam tugged on said robot. "Yes. I need your help, though. It seems that they are not willing to confess anything. If you strap this robot into the bungee cord and bounce them into the basket a few times, I'm sure we'll extract a confession." A sly, almost Cheshire cat-like grin took over Sam's lips.

"Good thinking," Freddie agreed. "Spencer?" he wondered, tilting his head towards the culprit. "Would you do the honors of placing the robot into the bungee cord?"

Shrugging, Spencer stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, and marched towards the figure. "We have nothing to lose. Let's do it. Sam, maneuver the robot over there." He pointed towards the enormous prize basket.

Sam obeyed, dragging the body with her. Within a few moments, it was securely strapped into place. Spencer stepped away after he was finished, gesturing to the contraption. "Sam?" he asked. "Do you want to…?" He trailed off, eyes flickering to the robot dangling in the air.

"Of course." She moved into position, hand greedily reaching for the cord. Turning her attention to the crowd that had gathered around her, she said loudly, "I'm going to start with one dip into the basket, and then increase it from there. We'll see how long it takes before the robot breaks. Who's ready for this?!"

The crowd cheered in unison, stamping their feet for approval. Sam nodded, shooting them a devious smirk, and then started counting. "One!" she screamed.

The robot flew into the basket with a groan. Once it bounced back up, Sam seethed at it. "Are you ready to confess now?"

Not a sound came from the robot, to which Sam pulled the cord once again. It descended with a _splat, _which caused the group of teenagers to erupt into laughter. A muffled moan of pain came from the robot, but still no confession rose to the surface.

The frustration flared in Sam's body. She let go of the ropes, drawing nearer to the robot. Pulling its head back, she gnashed her teeth and said, "I'm going to do this as many times as needed to get you to _say something_." She allowed the head to fall forward before heading back to the rope. She was about to pull again, but a chilling voice stopped her.

"Well done, Samantha. I knew you were violent, but I didn't think you were capable of practically _murdering _someone." Nevel and his henchmen descended the stairs, smirking. He clapped, and the sound was completely and utterly fake. It was if he had ingrained sarcasm into his clap.

"Nevel," she shouted, releasing the rope immediately. "What the _hell _are you doing here?"

"Language, Sam," Spencer said, although there was hardly any bite to it. His eyes widened dramatically, also taken aback by Nevel's appearance.

"What do you want, Nevel?" Freddie snapped, equally as annoyed.

"Shut up, Freddie," Nevel shot back in response. "Don't pretend you actually have a backbone. All you do is follow Sam, hoping you can hide behind her." He sneered, his upper lip curling in that awful, ugly way.

Freddie was all set to retort, but he noticed how Sam started to shake with rage.

Her flashing blue eyes took on a whole new look of anger—it was almost frightening how mad and wild they looked. Taking a step towards the irritating boy, she hissed, "You are going to tell me _exactly _what is going on. You will not leave anything out. _I want answers now._" Her voice was sharp and deadly as ever.

Sighing in a petulant manner, Nevel relented. "Very well. This isn't about iCarly anymore, if that's where your line of thinking is headed. This about me seeking the revenge I rightfully deserve." His laugh was once dark, disturbing. "You see, I was the purple robot, until I found a perfect replacement. Why don't you lift the head and see who it is now?" He seemed mocking, and Sam had no idea as to why.

Tilting her head to the side in confusion, she wondered who was underneath the costume. She gestured to Spencer, who helped her remove the body from the basket. Quickly, Spencer unlatched the robot from its harness. With a gentle hand, Sam removed its head. The sight almost stopped her heart entirely.

Gazing back at her was Carly Shay, her face blooming with red marks, indicators of the first signs of bruises. Her lip was cut, and a bit of blood had dripped, leaving a trail along her jaw. Her normally bright, brown eyes were welled with fresh, bubbling tears. She looked like a tragic and beaten maiden, and nothing, absolutely, _nothing_ appeared more pitiful in that moment.

Something in Sam broke. _God, _did it break. She suddenly found herself unable to breathe; the fire that been lit in anger was now suffocating her. The flames crawled up her throat, capturing the sweet oxygen that she needed.

"Carly," she whispered, regret and remorse coloring her tone. She tried to keep the tears at bay, but they were threatening to spill from her eyes. "God, I'm _so _sorry. I—I didn't know. I didn't mean to hurt you. I thought it was someone else—" She was having difficulty getting her words out; they were all tangled in her head.

"Sam," Carly interrupted softly. "It's okay."

Sam had never been an emotional person, but Carly was the only one in the world that was able to extract emotion from her. The dam broke, and there was nothing that could stop the wave of tears that escaped Sam's eyes. She didn't care that there were a ton of people watching her. All that mattered right now was how much pain she had caused her best friend, and how utterly horrible she felt.

"I have to go," she stammered, feeling the heat of the flames consuming her. "I have to get out of here."

There was so much that needed to be cleared up, so much that had to be discussed. She had to properly apologize, Carly had to be taken to the hospital, Spencer had to fill out a stack load of paperwork, and Nevel had to be arrested and taken away in handcuffs.

Somehow, all rational thoughts left Sam, and all she could think was, _Get out! Get the fuck out of here! Get out, get out, get out. Go, go, go. You're dying, you can't breathe, get out. The flames…they'll choke you, they'll burn you. Get out, get out, get out. _

She turned and ran, blinded by her tears. She ran out of the apartment, out of Bushwell, and onto the street. She kept on running, feeling her feet hit the pavement with a pounding rhythm. She wouldn't let herself stop running. She wouldn't let herself have a moment of rest. She kept on running, feeling completely out of breath. She was running out of air, but she didn't care. Her legs carried her forward, and as the heavy rain that began to fall from the darkening sky drenched her, her mind screamed, _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Carly. _

* * *

Carly gazed at the vase full of vibrant pink and red roses that was perched on her bedside table. Leaning against her pillows, she sighed. She _hated _recovery time. Having always been a busy-body, she was not one to sit around and patiently wait to feel better. Shaking her head, she decided that now was not the time to mope about being stuck in bed.

She went back to musing about the beauty and delicate nature of the roses, which had been a gift from Spencer and Freddie. The color of the flowers brightened up the otherwise dark mood that had drifted around the Shay household. The roses reminded Carly of the sanity of the world, even when there didn't seem to be much of it.

A week and a half had passed since the incident, but her body still felt weak. The bruises were beginning to heal—instead of the deep violet tint to her skin, the patches were now a pale lavender. Some spots were even looking a little green and yellow. Her ribs, however, were in the slow process of recovering; many of them had cracked when she took the tumble down the stairs. She also had to be careful with her head, which was throbbing from a concussion. Luckily, both of her arms were fine, but she had torn a few ligaments in her right leg. She wasn't able to walk perfectly, so if she needed to move, she had to use a crutch to lean on.

The situation was far from ideal, but Carly knew she was lucky to be alive. She thought about that when she needed a bit of reassurance, otherwise, it was easy to fall into the trap of feeling miserable.

A soft knock sounded from the door, tearing her away from her thoughts.

"Come in," she said quietly, shifting into a more comfortable position.

"Hey, baby sister. How are you?" Spencer asked, smiling slightly. He moved to sit at the edge of her bed, careful to put distance between himself and her sore leg.

Carly decided she preferred his smile over the constant frown he had been wearing lately. He seemed more disturbed than she did about what had happened, but it was only expected. He was her caregiver, after all, and Carly could hardly imagine what worries he had been through.

"Better than I have been. My ribs hurt, though." She returned his smile with some effort. Even though it was her head that throbbed, it was a little challenging working through different facial expressions. Parts of her face contained bruises as well, especially around the area where the eyes were. She didn't think they looked that bad anymore, but she understood why people continued to stare and cringe when they saw her.

Spencer winced. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "If I could, I would have redone that whole night. I would have taken your place in a heartbeat." He paused, physically struggling with the words he wanted to say. He glanced at the door, avoiding eye contact. In an even more subdued voice, he murmured, "But, you getting hurt…it was the most terrifying thing I've had to deal with. I—I couldn't sleep when you were in the hospital. And I couldn't sleep a few days after you got out. I just—I felt so helpless, and I didn't know what to do. I'm still not really sure if there's anything I can do…"

Patting his knee, Carly said fiercely, "Stop, Spencer. You need to _stop _with this. I'm tired of people feeling sorry for me. Even _I'm _not that freaked out anymore, so you shouldn't be. Yes, I'm still incredibly angry with Nevel, but I've had enough time to think. While I will _never_ forgive him, I'm willing to move on."

At the mention of Nevel's name, Spencer's jaw tightened. Through clenched teeth, he growled, "That bastard will never see the light of day again. I'll make sure that he rots in prison once they process his trial."

Nodding, Carly's lips twitched into a brief smile. "I'm just glad that the authorities were able to catch him as soon as he escaped from the party. He was pretty obvious about the whole thing, and his henchmen weren't exactly inconspicuous on the streets, either.

Spencer grimaced. "It's a good thing that we're pressing charges against him. I'm sure his mother will _love _hearing about his latest criminal activity."

"She's an idiot for giving birth to him," Carly laughed softly, making sure that the movement didn't bother her ribs too much.

"Very true." He moved forward by an inch to ruffle her hair. "Do you need anything while I'm here? A drink of water, maybe some hot soup?"

"No, thanks. I'm okay for right now. But, maybe later we could go for a short walk? I _need _to get of bed. The doctor said some exercise would be good, as long as I don't overdo it."

Giving Carly a genuine grin, Spencer said, "Of course, kiddo. We can definitely take a trip outside. Get some rest before then, okay? I'll be back in a couple of hours to check on you, and maybe then we'll head out." Standing up and walking over to her, he leaned down to press a light kiss to her forehead.

"Thanks, Spencer."

With a parting smile, he left. It was only a couple of seconds later when Freddie walked in, holding a vase of multiple colored roses. Carly noticed an arrangement of white, peach, yellow roses, but one single crimson rose stood out among the others. It was nestled in the center, clearly in the limelight.

"Hey, Carly," Freddie said, his voice quieter than usual. "I brought you something."

He handed her the vase, which had an envelope attached to it. She cradled the glass container, which was thankfully quite light, despite the array of roses in it. Carly raised an eyebrow in question, wondering what this was all about.

"Are the flowers from you?" she asked in an amused tone.

Shaking his head, Freddie smiled. "No, they're not from me. Sorry, Carly, but my affections are merely platonic now." He chuckled, brightening the mood instantly.

She laughed with him, enjoying the sound of happiness. She realized she had missed it. "Well, glad to hear that's cleared up. Who are they from?"

Freddie tensed slightly, and his lips evened out into a neutral expression. "Sam gave them to me to give to you. She just called me up to stop at her house, and when I did, she shoved the vase into my hands. I was confused as ever, and before I could get any questions out, she slammed the door in my face."

Carly instantly froze. "_Sam_?"

Scratching the back of his head in a nervous fashion, Freddie nodded. "Yeah. Weird, isn't it? We haven't heard a word from her in a week and half, and all of a sudden, she's ordering me around again and giving you gifts. I know it's Sam, but this is odd behavior, even for her."

Carly's eyes darkened; she could feel an unexplainable burst of fury shooting through her.

"How could she do _this_?" She raised the vase in her hands. "She doesn't pick up her phone when I've tried calling, doesn't answer any emails or texts, and doesn't come to the door when both Spencer and you have gone over to her house. She doesn't have any contact with us for nearly two weeks, and she just thinks she can pull this over on us. God, I _hate_ her." She spat, almost wanting to hurl the vase to the nearest wall to her.

At her words, Freddie sat down in the same place that Spencer had. In an adamant voice, one that Carly was not used to hearing, Freddie said, "You do not hate, Sam. Nothing in this world could make you hate her. You _know_ that."

After a moment of silence and dodging Freddie's stern look, the anger began to dissipate. Deflating, Carly muttered dejectedly, "I guess you're right. It's just—why does she have to do this? I can't stand the fact that she is capable of walking out of our lives so quickly and then reappearing. It makes me think that one day, she's going to leave permanently." Her lip started to wobble, and she could feel tears forming at the backs of her eyes.

Freddie's face softened. "Carly, you know as well as I do that Sam will never disappear for good. She values our friendship as a trio, and her friendship with you too much to let it fade away. I'm assuming she needs this time to cope, you know?" He took a breath before continuing. "It hasn't been easy for her. She's probably dealing with all of the guilt from what she put you through. Of course she didn't meant to intentionally hurt you, but she doesn't see it that way. Sam really believes she's guilty for all of your suffering. You may be healing physically, but it's going to take a _long _time before she's healed emotionally."

"Has anyone ever told you that maybe you should consider being a therapist? Forget computer science and engineering," Carly deadpanned.

Laughing, Freddie shook his head. "No, no one's ever said that. Are you kidding? I'd be terrible at it. I only know the mental state of you and Sam because I've been around you guys for long enough. Throw me in front of a stranger, and I'd give them awful advice." He blushed sheepishly.

"What you said makes sense, though. I guess, I'm just…depressed that she hasn't said a word to me. We're supposed to be best friends, and best friends tell each other everything. I feel like I'm losing sight of that." Sighing, Carly set down the vase next to the other one.

"Don't," Freddie pleaded quietly. "Don't lose sight of your friendship with Sam. I promise you that things will smooth out. You guys have been through hell and back together. I'm sure this incident isn't enough to tear your friendship apart. It's simply bruised, not broken."

Carly rolled her eyes. "You need to stop being so rational. I'm not sure I like it. Awkward Freddie is a lot easier to handle."

"I bet he is." Freddie smiled. "Just think about what I've said, okay? And read the letter that Sam wrote to you. Sam usually never pens anything on paper, so if she's doing it this time, you know there's reason." He rose from his spot and headed in the direction of the door.

"Thank you, Freddie," Carly called out to him. "For making me see sense."

"Anytime, Carly. Anytime." Freddie gave one last smile before disappearing through the door.

Once he was gone, Carly slouched in her bed. Closing her eyes, she asked herself if it was good idea to open Sam's letter. She knew that as soon she did, the floodgates would open and she would be exposed to every single painful emotion she had been repressing. She wasn't positive she was ready for that.

She contemplated the pros and cons of reading the letter for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, after much internal debate, she reached for the envelope that was securely wrapped around the vase with a piece of ribbon. Before sliding her finger underneath the envelope's edge to open it, she touched a petal of one of roses. Her lips quirked into a small smile at the feel of the velvet texture.

Taking a deep breath, she tore the envelope open and carefully extracted the piece of folded paper. Unfolding it with gentle fingers, Carly noticed that tear stains were scattered among the words, effectively smearing a few. She squinted, trying to make out the message.

_Carly, _the letter began.

_You're probably wondering why I'm writing this letter to you. Truthfully, I'm not sure myself. I never thought I'd ever write a personal letter to anyone. My usual philosophy is, 'If you can't say it out loud, don't bother saying it at all.' I suppose I'm contradicting myself here. There's so much I'd like to say, but I'm having trouble forming the right words. So, be prepared for verbal vomit, all right? _

_There are not enough words in the dictionary to cover how I feel right now. You're probably sick of people saying how sorry they are, but in my case, I have the most to apologize for. You cannot even begin to imagine the pure, burning guilt I have. I can't wake up now without thinking about how much I wronged you, or go to bed without picturing how bruised and broken you looked. It's been absolute torture; many days, I won't even leave my bed because my mind is full of dark, swirling images. I just lay there, feeling the numbness wrap around me. _

_But, then there are days when it's not quite so bad. On those days, I'm able to go outside, breathe in fresh air, and thank whoever has greater power over us that you're alive and are in recovery. On those days, I actually go to therapy. Yes, Carly. Sam Puckett volunteered to see a therapist. Crazy, isn't it? I never thought I'd get to this point, but here I am. My therapist—she's nice. It's comforting to know that someone who barely knows me cares enough to calm me down when I'm at my worst. I've also taken a few courses on how to manage my anger. It hasn't been easy, but I hope that one day, I'll be in recovery, too. _

_I never meant to hurt you, Carly. I would hurt myself before hurting you (don't worry, I haven't turned suicidal—I know that you'd never approve of that). But, seeing as how the situation wasn't ideal, someone did get hurt. That's why I haven't been around; I couldn't bear to see you when I knew what I had done. Like I said, I'm still trying to move on. It's just a lot harder for me, knowing that I was the one who partially harmed you (the other people being Nevel and his goons). _

_However, this doesn't mean I'm going to stay away forever. When I'm ready, I swear that I will see you again. I'll keep sending you letters, though. Writing things down isn't as bad as I originally thought. It's a way for me to still keep in contact without physically being there. So, expect more letters (and possibly more roses). _

_Speaking of roses, I need to explain why I picked those particular ones for you. The reason why I even chose roses in the first place was because in a strange sort of way, you remind me of them. Because I've had a lot of time to think, I've come to realize that you're very much like a flower: delicate and feminine. But, you're not just any flower; you're a rose. Roses are known for drawing attention and lighting up a room. They carry sultry and sweet scents with them, and they're perfect to deliver messages. Lastly, they have thorns. Not the store-bought roses, but the wild ones. They have prickly thorns that are sharp enough to pierce through skin. _

_Carly Shay, you have all of these characteristics. I don't mean to offend you with the thorns part, but you do have to admit that you're not always cheery and welcoming. You're human, so you're of shutting out people just as well as I am. The reason why I selected white, peach, yellow, and crimson for the roses is because they each symbolize something. White represents innocence and purity, peach is sincerity, yellow is joy and friendship, and crimson signifies mourning. In other words, the crimson rose is my sympathy rose—the one used to say, "I'm sorry." _

_I'm not asking for forgiveness right now. I know we both need time to heal. I hope that someday, you will be able to forgive me. As I said before, I will keep sending letters and probably a few more roses. You probably won't see me for a while, though. I'll let you know when I'm ready (I'll write it one of the future letters). _

_Please take care of yourself until then. _

_Warmest wishes,_

_Sam _

By the time Carly finished reading the letter, more tear stains had joined the previous ones. She found herself crying, the warm, salty droplets cascading from her eyes and down her cheeks. Clutching the letter to her chest, she wept. She wept for Sam, she wept for herself, and she wept for finally understanding.

* * *

True to Sam's word, more letters were delivered by Freddie. Sometimes, the letters had roses attached, and other times, there was just an envelope. Carly read every single one; some made her cry, others made her smile, but she always managed to laugh a little each time. A few of the letters were long like the first, while others were fairly short. When Carly felt like writing back, she scratched out responses on paper, and when she didn't, she wouldn't pen any words down. Freddie served as a diligent messenger, transferring letters back and forth.

Three weeks later, on a slightly cloudy day, Carly received a short and to the point letter.

Like always, Freddie delivered it with a smile, but this time, there was an extra sparkle in his brown eyes.

"I think you'll like this message," he said, laughing softly.

Arching an eyebrow in question, Carly asked, "Did you already read it?"

"Nope. But, Sam was more upbeat this time. She actually gave me one of her rare smiles."

Grinning, Carly carefully embraced him in a hug. Pulling away after a moment, she replied, "Thanks, Freddie. I appreciate everything you've done for us."

"Happy to help." He waved to her, edging near the door of her room. "I'll see you later. My mom is dragging me out shopping with her, and this time, she wouldn't take no for an answer." He shuddered.

Carly giggled, waving back to him. "Have fun with that. See you, Freddie."

He slipped through the door, whistling on his way out.

Turning her attention to the letter, Carly eagerly tore it open. There were only a few words etched on the page, but she clearly understood the message.

_Carly, _

_Meet me today on the bridge after you read this. _

_-Sam _

Gripping the letter firmly in her fingers, Carly scanned the words again and again. Was Sam finally ready? Was she ready to see Sam? She could feel her stomach starting to twist—never once had they discussed seeing one another in their letters. The letters only contained pleasantries. Carly's skin began to prickle with fear, and cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Her thoughts were swirling in a million different directions, as her heartbeat started to gallop with speed.

She forced herself to calm down after a moment or two. Placing the letter in the box that now lay on her bedside table, Carly sprawled on her bed, thinking about the pros and cons of seeing Sam. The part of her that was scared told her that she definitely wasn't ready. But, the more rational part of her brain, the part that normally ruled her actions, told her that there was nothing to fear. Sam was her best friend, despite everything that had transpired between the two of them.

With a groan, Carly surrendered to the rational side. She gathered all of the courage she could, lifted herself out of bed, grabbed a small, glass bottle from her bedside table, and made her way downstairs. She found Spencer in the kitchen, bent over a project, appearing deeply concentrated on sculpting a figure out of clay.

"Hey, I'm going out for a bit," she said quietly to him.

He looked up and smiled. "Do you need a ride, or do you think you can drive now?"

"I think I can manage. Thanks, though. See you later." She walked over, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and left the apartment with her keys in hand.

She was grateful that her leg had healed enough to allow her to drive. Being off of her feet had been the worst, but she missed driving more than anything. She loved the feeling of having the windows down, the wind blowing through her hair, and trying to navigate the busy streets of Seattle.

She enjoyed the somewhat long, quiet drive from Bushwell to the remote area that held a single bridge over a small river. When she reached the area, she parked her car in the lot that was within a five minute walk from the final destination.

She briskly strode the distance from the lot to bridge. After climbing the somewhat steep incline, Carly sagged with relief when she finally stood at the far end of the bridge. Glancing straight ahead, she found a lone figure peering over the railing, her long blonde hair flowing in the gentle breeze. Carly's heart jumped in an offbeat pattern, while her hands shook violently. Placing them at her sides, she marched forward, careful not to cause too much noise to frighten Sam.

"Hi," she said softly when she was within ear-shot.

Turning at the voice, Sam's blue eyes widened. "Hi," she answered, slightly bewildered.

A weak smile made its way onto Carly's lips. She came a little bit closer, so that they could properly hear each other.

"You seem surprised to see me," Carly pointed out.

Shrugging, Sam scuffed her shoe against the bridge. "I wasn't entirely sure you were going to come. I know it wasn't easy for either of us."

Unsure how to respond to that, Carly remained silent. She continued staring at Sam, her eyes taking in her best friend's appearance. Sam looked thinner, like she hadn't been eating as much. Shadows were cast under her eyes, clearly evidence of lack of sleep. Overall, she didn't look particularly happy.

Carly could feel the obvious tension in the air, and she hated it. This wasn't the way it used to be with Sam.

"I—" she began, hoping to start a conversation. Unfortunately, that was all that left her mouth.

Sam seemed to know what she was thinking. "I know," the blonde sighed. "I get that it's hard to come up with words. Trust me, I've been struggling with it for a _long_ time." Despite the awkward situation, Sam's lips twitched into a smirk.

Instead of allowing words to express how she felt, Carly lunged forward and crushed Sam in hug. She was careful of swishing her own ribs, but the hug was tight enough to squeeze the breath out of Sam.

After an initial moment of shock, Sam returned the hug, wrapping her arms around Carly's waist. Since Carly was taller than Sam, Sam buried her face in Carly's shoulder. Her body shook uncontrollably, as she clutched on for dear life.

"I'm sorry, Carly. I'm so sorry," Sam murmured into her shoulder.

Carly could feel wetness soak her shirt, and she pulled back to glance at her best friend. Surely enough, droplets of water had formed in the blonde's eyes. Reaching out, Carly wiped them away with her fingers.

"Don't apologize," she answered. "I already know how you feel. And I told you, it's okay."

Releasing her hold on Carly, Sam stepped to the side, giving them some distance.

"How can you look at me and say that? How can you say that it's okay when it's clearly not?" There was slight hysteria to her voice, almost as if she was on the brink of having another melt-down.

"Because I've forgiven you!" Carly shouted, albeit not angrily. It was more exasperated than anything. "I forgave you the moment I saw how horrified you looked after you'd taken off the robot head. When you knew it was me, you knew what you had done was wrong. That's when I knew you hadn't meant it. But, we can't keep doing this, Sam!" A large lump had formed in her throat, making her voice sound scratchy and hoarse. "We can't keep going around in circles. I've forgiven you. So, please, please learn to forgive yourself." If she had to, Carly would have dropped to her knees and begged for Sam to listen.

"It's not that easy, Carly," Sam muttered, looking away. "It's not easy to forgive myself." She turned in the opposite direction, facing the river. She walked closer to railing, leaning her arms on it.

Carly followed suit, casting her gaze outward towards the water. "I didn't say it was easy," she whispered. "It's never easy when it comes to this kind of thing. I just want you to _try._"

"Therapy has been helping," Sam explained, voice incredibly quiet. "It's a process, though. I probably won't ever be one hundred percent fixed, but maybe in time, I'll learn to forgive myself. I guess that's the key to healing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I think it is. But, please don't give up. Keep going to your therapy sessions. Keep making positive amends. And please, keep talking to Freddie and I. We need to know that you're doing all right."

"I will," Sam vowed. "You'll be here with me, every step of the way?" She shot a questioning look at the brunette standing next to her.

"Yes. Of course, I will. That's what best friends are for." There was a smile in her voice.

The air was silent for several beats. Sam broke the silence when she asked, "So, what now? I don't have another therapy session until tomorrow, but I have the rest of the afternoon free."

"Do you want to come over? I can prepare a ham sandwich for you, and we can talk. Just the two of us. I'll make Spencer run some errands for me, or something."

"I would love that." Sam smiled, one of the rare, beautiful smiles that Carly thought were amazing.

"Oh, but I need to do one thing before we go." She reached into her jacket pocket and fished out the small glass bottle, which was filled with a silky, soft material.

Sam's brow furrowed. "Are those rose petals?"

"Yeah. I plucked a few petals from the roses you gave me. By the way, they were gorgeous. Where did you find them? I can't think of a flower shop in Seattle that sells such striking roses."

Sighing with relief, Sam said, "Oh, good. You liked them. Well, I didn't get them from a flower shop. Wendy's mom is world's leading expert on roses, and she has a rose garden in her backyard."

Carly arched an eyebrow. "What did promise Wendy in exchange for the roses?"

Sam threw her head back and laughed. "I promised her that when Freddie becomes the owner of Pear Industry, he'll let her have her choice of any Pear computer or phone in the store."

Carly's lips curled into a full smile. "Classic Sam."

"You better believe it. Now, what are you doing with the rose petals?"

Uncorking the bottle, Carly lifted the object higher into the air. "Tradition says that if you toss rose petals into any body of water, you're making a statement and wishing for new beginnings. It's kind of like cleansing the soul. I'm ready to start over and to move on. I know this has been really difficult, but I think it's time."

Without another word, Carly tipped the bottle over the railing and the rose petals drifted out of it and landed gently in the water. The river now dazzled with several colored petals, and there was enough sunshine out that when the light hit the water, the view was able to take anyone's breath away.

Giving one last glance at the rose petals that now rested in the water, Carly nodded, signaling that it was time to go. Sam smiled in return, and together, they made their journey back to the car.

* * *

_**Just a couple of quick notes: **_

_**1. The phrase that Nevel said to Carly (Veni, vidi, vici) means "I came, I saw, I conquered." **_

_**2. The bridge that Carly and Sam refer to is a fictional one that I came up with. The backstory on this particular bridge is it's the one place that they both find peace in. Whenever one of them is having issues, they will escape and walk along the bridge. **_

_**3. The tradition about rose petals is also something I made up. There may be a tradition out there like that, but I'm not aware of it.**_

_**4. If the ending feels rushed, I apologize. This is actually a lot longer than I had anticipated, and I wanted it to end, so I threw together a conclusion. **_

_**If you'd like to, please let me know what you thought. I'm not really a fan of this, but eh. If it made you guys smile, then I'm happy :) **_


End file.
